


Dirty Faces

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Gentleness, Oral Sex, Pillow Talk, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Never slept on satin sheets before,” Bert murmured, brushing a kiss across her lips. “But I guess you ain’t planning on me gettin’ much sleep tonight.” </i>
</p><p>Phryne invites Bert to spend the night with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “This isn’t quite how I had planned to do this.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stef84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stef84/gifts).



> For Stef84, who can’t get enough of this guilty pleasure pairing. ;) Prompts are in the chapter titles.
> 
> Timeline-wise, assume that this takes place _very_ early in S1, after “Cocaine Blues” but before “Raisins and Almonds”. Follows on from [Chapter 107](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4799084/chapters/11822948) of “You Asked For It”.

Phryne took Bert’s hands and placed them very deliberately around her slim waist. He flexed his fingers and felt the muscles hiding under her fine silk blouse. “It’s always a relief to me, to spend the night with an equal.”

Bert swallowed the rest of his nervousness and smiled. “Never slept on satin sheets before,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her lips. “But I guess you ain’t planning on me gettin’ much sleep tonight.”

“No,” she smiled, her eyes sparkling up at him. 

She took his hands and led him up the stairs to her bedroom. He had been there once before, when he and Cec had delivered and arranged their new boss’s furniture, but that had been in the daylight, when the room was still mostly bare, before all the pictures had gone up on the walls, before all the dark Japanese screens and the fancy fabrics and lamps. Now it was nighttime, and the curtains were drawn, making the room that surrounded Bert was all warm luxurious decadence. 

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously while Phryne shut the door. “Now then,” she said in a low voice humming with eagerness, “now we have a chance to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ain’t you enjoyed yerself before?”

“Absolutely.” She kissed him briefly and then pushed the long gray duster from his shoulders. “But while danger and the thrill of the chase can be _extremely_ erotic, I also like the chance of a little peace and quiet, in which to... take our time.”

She molded her body against his, rolling her hips slightly to feel his hardness against her. Unbidden, Bert let out a small groan. “Still... I ain’t sure I’m up t’ all this. Here, I mean.”

“Would you feel more confident if we were in your room at the boarding house?” she asked, smoothing her hands down his rough wool waistcoat.

“Yes,” said Bert, very bluntly. “At least I know who I am there. Always thought that was the bed we’d end up in, if we ever bothered makin’ it to a bed.” 

“So you have thought of us in a proper bed together,” Phryne teased.

“Eh, maybe... once or twice. This wasn’t ever somethin’ I planned for, though.” His half-smile was bitter and a little wistful. “Didn’t figure you’d want my dirty face on yer satin pillows.” 

She slid her fingers into his short blond hair and pulled his head down for a slow kiss. “Yours isn’t the only dirty face here right now,” she reminded him softly. 

He hummed instinctively against her lips. She tasted sweet and smelled clean, nothing like the constant aroma of motor oil and cheap cigarettes that Bert knew hung around him like a cloud. But still, he knew what she meant. It was what she always told him, whenever he expressed doubt about the rightness of a working man sleeping with his rich lady boss: deep down, they were the same. 

“Nothing’s changed,” Phryne assured him, divining his thoughts from the minute hesitation of his hands descending on her hips. “About you, about me...” His waistcoat and shirt fell away under her experienced fingers, “about who we are to one another.” Gently, she turned him round and then backed him against her bed. 

The softness of the bedclothes on his bare back reminded Bert that he still wasn’t entirely sure of that, but he couldn’t deny, as he watched Phryne dispose of her own clothing piece by piece, that seeing his miss naked and glowing in the safe low light of her own bedroom was almost enough to convince him.


	2. “Make me.”

“Had you ever been with a woman before?” Phryne asked, softly, curiously, between kissing his lips and nipping his throat. “Before you had your way with me in the backseat of your cab?”

“‘Ere now, who was having their way with who?” Bert grumbled, wrapping his hands firmly around her waist and tugging her into his lap. He still wasn’t entirely sure what Miss Fisher wanted him to do, beside fuck her, but he knew he wanted to feel the warm, slim weight of her against his skin. “I seem to remember you makin’ all sorts of demands.”

“Mmm... demands that you were very happy to oblige,” she teased in return, playfully grinding her mound against his still-clothed groin. “Well? Had you?”

“Nnngh, miss... Yes! But—they were mostly workin’ girls. Never had to bother much about what they wanted.” His ears burned with the realization that this was probably not the sort of thing he should be saying to Miss Fisher. 

There was no condemnation or disapproval in her eyes, only desire and concern that were hard for him to bear, and a fondness that was almost unbearable. “No proper girlfriends?”

“Ain’t seemed to have much time for ‘em. So, uh… ‘fraid you’ll have to tell me what you want me to do.”

She put his hands where she wanted them. “You’re not paying for this,” she reminded him. “You don’t have to worry about getting your money’s worth, or being over-charged. What I want most is for you to take your time. You’re already very good at knowing what I like.” Phryne smiled encouragingly. “Just... slow down. Make me sigh, Bert. Make me moan.” Her lips parted in a silent, sultry laugh. “Make me come.”

He was still nervous. His hands on her small beautiful breasts were trembling and his mouth was dry, almost as though this really _was_ his first time with a woman, back when the most beautiful and complicated thing he’d ever touched was a beat-up old Tin Lizzie. But he knew damned well then and he knew damned well now that there was a difference between a woman and an automobile.

So he made up his mind to do as she asked, and take his time. It scared him even more than just being in Miss Fisher’s bedroom. She was always the one to take the initiative, to take him almost literally by his tackle and tell him, usually without words, precisely what she wanted. And the girls he’d paid in the past, well, he’d never been able to afford anything... elaborate.

But with Miss Fisher sitting bare and waiting in his lap, there didn’t seem to be any better time to learn.

Gingerly, he brushed the pads of his thumbs across her nipples. Phryne’s head fell back with a low moan. “Mmm… a very good start.” Bert bit back a silly little grin and, with that encouragement, kept going, circling his thumbs around the pale peach-coloured tips, so different in skin tone and texture from the skin surrounding them. He was enthralled by the way her nipples hardened under his touch, and how they pebbled and felt rough under the ridges of his fingertips. She moaned again and brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders. 

He glanced at her closed eyes and rapt expression, and took what felt to him to be a very daring step, ducking his head to pass his tongue over one nipple. 

Phryne gasped softly. “Yes,” she whispered, smiling, “oh yes, Bert.”

He tried it again with the other breast, and received the same praise, the same soft gasp of pleasure, the same brief spasm of her fingers on his bare shoulders, and was surprised at how _good_ it felt. He went a step further, closing his lips around her nipple and pulling the taut point into his mouth to better caress it with his tongue. 

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” she panted, and chuckled. “I knew you’d – ah! – catch on quickly.” She inched her hands closer to his neck, playing with the short soft hairs at the nape. “…Teeth.”

Bert looked up. “Eh?”

“Use your teeth.”

“You like that, eh?” He grinned and did as she requested, tugging gently on the nipple he had just released. She responded by rolling her hips hard against his groin. “Guess so…” 

So he kept going, cupping one breast his in hand and teasing the other with his mouth, then switching, and in between Phryne kept griping his shoulders hard (he could feel the little crescent marks she was leaving with her nails as they bit into his skin) and playing with his hair and occasionally pulling his mouth up for hungry kisses that burned him all the way down. 

“As wonderful as this is, Bert darling,” she said, grinning hotly at him in between kisses, “there is more to me.”

“Don’t think I hadn’t noticed,” he retorted huskily, grinning back. 

Phryne smirked and slid off his lap. The relief of pressure was so sudden and so unwelcome that Bert actually groaned. “Hang on, lemme take these things off…” He shucked off his rough trousers and his underpants and then hesitated. Phryne had reclined herself on her bed with her head and shoulders against a pile of pillows, and looked like an Egyptian queen from the pictures, all pale skin and dark hair, and eyes a man could drown in. Bert looked her over, realizing very abruptly that he’d never quite seen any woman like this before, and felt his ears turning red. “You, uh… what next?”

She held out her arms, so Bert went, with a sort of half-bold, half-sheepish movement. Her breasts against his chest were softer than anything he’d ever felt before, which astonished him. They’d screwed half-a-dozen times now, and he’d practically buried his face in her chest once or twice, so why did this seem so new…? Even her kisses, demanding as they were, were soft now. “Next?” he murmured again, afraid if he didn’t find something else to focus on he might sink into her and never find his way out. 

“Next?” She nipped his lips playfully and then soothed the little bites with the tip of her tongue. “Lower.”

“Is that all?” Bert teased, slipping a hand down between her thighs. This he could do. He’d done this…

“No.” Phryne rolled her hips to dislodge his hand, and then pushed him gently. “All of you. Lower.”

“Oh… _oh_.” Bert gulped. To cover his hesitation, he dropped a kiss to her collarbone. 

Phryne let out a hum of pleasure. “Yes, and do that too, please.”

Bert jumped at the opportunity to stall, and gratefully kissed his way down the front of Miss Fisher’s body, pausing at each breast to taste them again, and then continuing down her torso. He discovered that her softness was not due just to her skin, but to the fine transparent hairs down her belly. He breathed on them and brushed his lips and nose over them, reveled in the softness. He found a cluster of freckles on the left side of her ribs, and a small red birthmark at the very bottom of her stomach, just above the damp curls of her sex. They glistened in the low light. He swallowed, shot Miss Fisher a hesitant glance, and then almost shyly, nuzzled his nose into her pubic hair, breathing in the slick, musky scent of her arousal. 

She said nothing, only let out a little sigh, and dropped a hand to rest lightly on top of his head.

He slid down an inch or two lower, so that his head and shoulders were between her lean thighs. She wanted him down here, he reasoned, so she must want more than to get off on his fingers. That wasn’t new; that wasn’t slow. It wasn’t… intimate enough. 

_Fuck,_ Bert thought desperately. _Albert Stephen Johnson, what in hell have you gotten yourself into?_ The fact that plenty of other men had been eye-level with Phryne Fisher’s goods didn’t cross his mind. What did it matter? They were all passing fancies. He worked for her… what did that make him?

“Bert?” Phryne started to sit up. “If you’d rather not—”

“S’awright, Miss,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “You’re just, uh… a bit of a strong brew?” Well, it wasn’t any kind of a lie; the smell of her had gone straight to his head the second she’d stripped off her knickers, and being all but nose-deep in her was a million times better and worse for his concentration. 

Phryne just chuckled, low and pleased in the back of her throat. “I like the sound of that,” she murmured, her fingers just barely stroking his hair now. The light touch was like electricity, and Bert shivered. 

Carefully he stroked the wet line of her sex, dipping his index finger in between the swollen soft lips. He’d never pleasured any woman from this angle before. It felt… different. The heat was different, the sensations more pronounced. From the sounds Miss Fisher was making above him, she seemed to agree. Curious, he used two fingers of his free hand to gently spread her labia. 

At the front of her cunt was a moist dark pink ruffle of flesh. He stroked it with the tip of one finger. “Ohhh god,” Phryne moaned softly. “Yes…” She reached down and quickly pulled the hood of flesh back, revealing the hard nub of her clit. “Mouth. _Now_.”

Bert laved the little nub with his tongue, thrusting his fingers deep into her soaking wet passage. He’d never tasted a woman before, hadn’t understood how it could possibly be anything except dirty, but this, this just made him _want_ her, with his whole body. He hooked both his arms under her thighs and angled her hips up so that he could bury his face in her cunt.

“Yes!” Phryne shrieked, her body rising to meet the thrusts of his tongue. He squeezed her arse and pressed his face deeper, as deep as he could go, until she suddenly stiffened and let out a cry of fulfillment that made Bert laugh aloud, his mouth still pressed against her.


	3. “Are we really going to talk about this now?”

Bert gazed up at Phryne, enthralled by the sight of her flushed face, her ecstatic expression. He’d made her come any number of times in the past but he’d never seen her like this and he was awe-struck. He wanted to do that to her again, over and over… 

She opened her eyes and smiled dreamily down at him, and held out her arms. 

_Eh,_ Bert thought, obeying the silent summons eagerly, _the night’s young._

Phryne drew him up and kissed him thoroughly. “Mmm… did you enjoy that, Bert, dear?” She licked at his lips, tasting herself on his skin.

“Wasn’t bad,” he muttered between kisses, trying not to grin. Phryne bit his lower lip softly and he let out a moan. “Tasted better’n I would’ve thought.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” To his surprise, she rolled him over onto his back. 

“S-somethin’ wrong, Miss?” Why in hell was he stuttering? 

“Not exactly,” she smiled, looking through long, sooty eyelashes. “I just had something else in mind.”

Bert gulped for air and watched her kiss her way down his torso, almost exactly as he’d done to her, except with noticeably more confidence. Her breath was warm and intolerably intimate on his cock. “Fuck,” he moaned, letting his head fall back. He’d been so intent on pleasuring Miss Fisher that he hadn’t even realized that he was that hard, but one soft brush of air over his skin and he was gone. “Are you gonna—?”

She licked her lips and then licked his cockhead gently. Oh Christ, she _was_. And then she _did_. She took him in her mouth and there was nothing he could do but moan and fist the bedclothes. How was she—? He couldn’t fathom it. He wasn’t exactly big but he wasn’t _small_ , either, and yet Miss Fisher was working her warm, wet way steadily over his whole length until her chin was brushing his balls and her lips were wrapped around the base of his cock. Then she drew back, grazing ever so slightly with her teeth, licking, gently blowing air across his skin, and then did it all again.

At some point he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She hummed appreciatively around him and he almost exploded, but for the touch of her fingers on his wrist. He slacked his grip a bit and she hummed again, harder, and then Bert was done. He spilled into her mouth and then the full force of the orgasm hit him like a freight train, searing shearing pleasure. He cried out… something? And then simply… was not… for a while. 

“‘m sorry, Miss,” he mumbled, his head dropping back on the pillows as she hovered over him, grinning. “Need… a bit of a break…” His eyes closed, and he slept.

When Bert woke, he found that Phryne was comfortably snuggled up beside him, tracing her fingers through his pale chest hair. And he started to panic.

“What—what’s goin’ on here, Miss?”

She glanced up at him. “I thought we were having fun. Is something wrong, Bert? Do you want to stop?”

“It’s not right,” Bert started, all his earlier nervousness flooding back and colouring his voice. “It’s against everything the revolution stands for and—”

“How?”

“Huh?”

“How is spending a night with me once in a while, or more than that, upending the ideals of the revolution?” asked Phryne patiently. “And is now really the time to be discussing communist political theories?”Her hand came to rest lightly on his sternum, between his pectoral muscles. He wasn’t sure if she was holding him down or trying to anchor him. He felt trapped and safe all at the same time. “Do you remember when we first met, after we left the police station?”

“Cec ‘n’ me took ya to th’ Windsor.”

“Yes, and on that drive, you assured me that after the Communists rose up and took over, we’d _all_ be staying at the grand hotels, because we’d all finally be equal. So.” She kissed his cheek gently. “How is this so different? One man, one woman, one bed, one night of pleasure. Nothing else given or taken…”

“It _is_ different,” Bert insisted. “I know it! …But how… I ain’t quite sure…” 

“Perhaps,” Phryne suggested, nuzzling her cheek softly against his, “the difference is in the offering. You don’t have to pay a fee for the pleasure of my company. And you don’t have to fight for it. We both want this, and we can have it, with no repercussions. That’s a frightening thing to a man who’s used to everything being a transaction.”

“I…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Dunno what t’ say to that, exactly.”

Phryne’s smile was kind. She raised up on her elbow and cupped his face, stroking his lower lip with her thumb, before lowering her mouth to his and kissing him, slowly and with tender care. “I think you could do with a drink.”


	4. “I think you’ve had enough.”

She sprang from the bed and knelt beside a chest of drawers. Bert sat up to watch her, and couldn’t help admiring the clean smooth lines of her pale back and thighs. She produced a bottle of whiskey from the drawer and returned to the bed. 

He looked at the bottle. The label was unfamiliar but the paper and the type reeked of money. “Might’ve known you wouldn’t keep sly grog in your knicker drawer,” he grunted, twisting the cap off. 

He took a long drink and then leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the mellow liquid slipped warmly down his throat. “Dangerous stuff. Barely even tastes like grog.”

“Only the finest for my gentlemen guests,” Phryne said, raising an amused eyebrow. 

“This sorta stuff’ll have me singing like a bird in no time.”

Phryne closed her fingers gently around his wrist and arrested the bottle as he raised it to his mouth again. “Bert, if there is something you need to say, better to get it off your chest _before_ the whiskey makes you admit to things you’ll deny in the morning.”

He glanced at her with quick fearful darting eyes, and took another swig. Too big of a swig, as it turned out, and he winced and coughed for a moment or two. Miss Fisher’s hand was still on his wrist. Her fingertips were resting, delicately, on his pulse point. “This has all been... I don’t... How’s all’a this on the up-and-up? I want it t’ be, but... what if someone finds out, Miss? It could mean th’ end of my Party membership if they found out. An’ it could mean hell for you.”

“Please don’t worry about me, Bert.”

“But I do,” he said stubbornly. “Even if I ain’t in love with you—and I ain’t, I know better. But I do care about you...” Bert trailed off and took another drink. “I care about you a bloody awful lot, Miss. As much as I care about Cec. The same way as Cec. Like a best mate, y’know? Someone who’s got my back.”

“Yes,” said Phryne gently, stroking his forearm. “I know.”

“An’... damn it, what’s gonna happen when Cec finds out?” Bert looked at her in dismay.

“My dear man, I know perfectly well how and how much you care for Cec. And I know how much he cares about you, too.” She smiled and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He already knows.”

“...What?”

“He knows. Oh, he didn’t say as much, and he didn’t ask questions. He just took me aside for a moment one day, not long after our... encounter in the back seat of the cab, and said to me, ‘Be kind t’ him, Miss.’”

Bert blinked once or twice, then lowered his eyes to the bottle. It was already half-empty... had he really sunk that much? “Good ol’ Cec... what’d you say?”

“That I’d always intended to be kind to you, and to treat you fairly. Which was the unvarnished truth.” Phryne leaned over and kissed Bert’s cheek. “But Cec asking it of me made me far more determined to do right by you.”

That made Bert smile, and he felt a large chunk of his nervousness melt away. Cec was practically the only person he had left, and if he was forced to choose between his best mate and Miss Fisher, there wasn’t a choice to be made. But it was a hell of a relief to know he didn’t have to make it. 

“As to the party,” she continued, snuggling up beside him and resting her chin on his shoulder, “no matter what you decide to do, your local leaders will twist it to their advantage. It’s what political parties _do_ , and in that respect, they’re absolutely all the same. As to my reputation,” she continued, in a much lighter tone, “that’s mine to bother about.”

“You don’t seem t’ bother about it all that much,” Bert grunted, glancing at her with a small grin. “A commo ‘ere, a French dancin’ bloke there...”

“It’s all part of the life, I’m afraid,” Phryne said, letting out a dramatic sigh. “When a woman of low birth inherits a fortune, she can choose one of two paths. She can become ultra-respectable and socially untouchable, or she can live the high life and say to hell with being untouchable. When one disregards convention at the level I do, one has to continue doing outrageous things. It takes the spotlight off of the actual important flouting of conventions, like, oh, wearing trousers, and advocating family planning, and investigating murders.”

Bert twisted an arm behind her and pulled her in close for a kiss. “Glad you decided you liked bein’ touched, Miss.”

She smiled against his lips. “Mmm... Besides, that same low birth and disregard for convention gives me a certain leeway in how I conduct my personal life, which is very good for me. I’ve slept with men from far lower stations than you, and they were wonderful, tender lovers. They help keep me humble.” 

“...You’ll want t’ keep me around, then, ‘cause you’re the least humble person I know.”

Phryne’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “That’s it, you’ve had more than enough.” She grabbed for the whiskey bottle. Bert laughed and held it out of her reach. 

“Be nice, Miss, an’ say ‘please’.”

“Politeness? Oh no, that’s much too bourgeois for a good communist. I’m definitely going to report you to the party leaders now. As soon as I get my whiskey back—”

Bert leaned back quickly and just managed to set the bottle on her dressing table, then grabbed her wrist and pushed her back. Phryne yelped and made a motion towards kneeing him in the groin that Bert narrowly avoided, laughing at her. She threw back her head and laughed with him.

They tussled for another minute or two, until the fur and satin bed covers had all slid to the floor and Phryne was securely pinned under Bert’s solid frame. “Gotcha.” 

She chuckled in between kissing him and trying to catch her breath. “Don’t delude yourself; I could put you on your back in three seconds flat.” 

“Well then, why doncha?”

Phryne arched her back slight and rolled her hips, brushing her mound against his half-hard cock with the motion. Bert let out a choked groan of surprise. “Because I like you here, for a change,” she purred, deepening the kiss.


	5. “You started this, you damn well finish it.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the core of the business at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so close to being done_ with this thing...

Bert groaned softly into Phryne’s mouth, feeling her arching beneath him so invitingly. He wasn’t altogether sure what she tasted like anymore, she’d had her lips all over him, seemingly, and drunk him down as eagerly as they’d shared her whisky. “You’re worlds too good fer me, Miss,” he muttered, shifting willingly however her hands urged him to move. “Don’t know what you see in me, but I ain’t gonna complain anymore.”

She smiled and squeezed his arse to hear him groan again. “You weren’t exactly _complaining_ before, you know. Just questioning.”

“I ain’t gonna do that anymore, either. My mother always said I shouldn’t take my blessings for granted... _oh_...” Bert’s voice caught in his chest as Phryne took him in hand and aligned his cockhead with her entrance. He pushed easily into her warm, wet passage and sighed. “Christ, Miss, you feel good.” He looked down at her flushed face, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted, her hair mussed, and elaborated on his statement. “You feel bloody wonderful.”

“Mmm...” Phryne ran a hand up his thigh and hip. “So do you.” She flexed her internal muscles slightly, squeezing her cunt around him. 

_“Fuck.”_

Phryne opened her eyes and gazed up at him with a hazy fondness. Bert felt absurdly proud of himself; he knew her well enough now to be able to recognize when she was close to coming. If he moved just right, if he thrust hard, he could have her screaming and flying apart beneath him in five second flat...

But this wasn’t a back room or a back alley. And she’d wanted him to take his time so far, and takin’ things slow had let him learn her body better than he had before... might as well keep right on going the way they’d been going. He wasn’t really in any sort of hurry, he decided, smiling and letting Phryne pull him down for another long, slow kiss. 

He’d have to be ten different kinds of crazy to _want_ to leave Miss Fisher’s bed.

She felt so good. How had he never realized just how good she felt, how good she smelled and tasted? He worked his hands beneath her shoulders and moved his mouth down to take one hard pink nipple between his lips. He withdrew his cock slowly and pushed back inside her with one firm thrust, laving her nipple firmly with his tongue, and was rewarded with a glorious deep guttural groan and then a high, sweet, breathy sigh. Like music, she was. 

“God... Bert, darling, you are marvelous.” She scraped her nails lightly up and down his spine. “I do so appreciate a man who learns fast.”

“Hope I haven’t already learned everything you’d like to teach me, Miss.”

“Oh... oh no,” she purred, bringing her hand to his face and pressing her palm to his cheek. “Not by a very long chalk.”

“Good. So... you enjoyin’ yerself, Miss? No... no need to hurry?”

Phryne brushed her thumb over the soft swell of his cheek. “You’re doing fine.”

He kissed her thumb and her palm and then stretched out atop her, pushing deeper, not fast but firmly. “If I said... if I said I loved you, Miss,” Bert murmured quickly, between short heated kisses, “you’d – you’d know I meant like Cec, right?”

“Yes.”

“Love you, Miss.”

She held him close. “I’ve got your back, Bert,” she promised, her eyes brimming with warmth and affection. 

Her words took a weight off his chest that he’d thought was already gone, and he sank even deeper into her, into the melting-hot feel of her, into the _idea_ of her. She rolled her hips eagerly beneath him and moaned softly. “Yes... Bert... God, yes, beautiful man, just like... mmm...” Her hums of pleasure soon became sweet, needy whispers.

“Miss,” Bert groaned, beginning to feel his climax building, “my... my Miss...”

In the midst of her passion, Phryne let out a breathy laugh. “ _Your_ Miss, am I?”

“Like that, eh?”

“I’ve no idea yet...” Phryne tangled a hand into his hair and pushed his mouth down to her breast. Her free hand she worked between them, pressing the heel of her palm firmly against her clit, and making a fork of her fingers, stroking his cock with each urgent thrust.

“Miss—” His whole body shook with the effort not to let go too soon. 

“Bert, darling—so close— Right there, yes, please, Bert, come with me!”

His orgasm blew through him like a hot summer wind, and then Phryne came with a sharp high cry and the fury of her pleasure sent Bert careening over an unexpected precipice. “Oh my God,” he panted against her breast, now reddened with the marks of his lips and teeth. “Fuck...”

Phryne’s hand in his hair gently fell to stroking his shoulder and upper arm and the curl of his ear. “That was lovely, Bert,” she said sleepily.

And as he lay next to her, sweating and satisfied and trying to catch his breath, her pleased words brought a sudden unexplained crash of uncertainty dropping on him. Was lovely enough? Was it too much? Was she serious or was she just patronizing him? All Bert’s lovely confidence melted away with the afterglow, and he lay staring at the ceiling, his body tired and sated but his brain all too uneasily awake. 

“Bert?” Phryne pressed her cheek to his shoulder and draped her arm over his ribs. “What is it?”

“I...” The imprint of her hands on his body burned, and his throat closed up. “It’s nothin’, Miss.”

She brushed a feathery kiss across the skin of his hipbone. “Was it something I did? Did we go too far?”

“Blimey, Miss, no! No...” He rolled over to look at her, and was struck by how fragile she appeared. He wasn’t at all sure that he liked it. “This was... I can’t even tell you how amazing tonight’s been. I’ll remember this night for the rest of my life.”

“...Does that mean you won’t be back in my bed anytime soon?”

Bert snorted softly. “I wouldn’t go that far.”


	6. “Where’s the fire?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne asks Bert to spend the rest of the night with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing took **way** too long to finish for something that's not even six thousand words. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who stuck around for the ride! ♥

He let Phryne pull him into a languid kiss for a minute or two, and then, very reluctantly, he sat up. “I should go,” he murmured, unwilling to take himself away from her strong warm softness, but unable to convince himself to stay. “You probably want your sleep, an’ I have t’ get home.”

“I’m not tired yet,” Phryne replied, with a sultry smile. She sat up as well and put her arms around his neck and kissed him again, her lips slow and deliberate, and Bert was pleasantly distracted for another few moments. “But if I’ve worn you out...”

“It ain’t that, I just...” He hunted for the right words, and couldn’t find them. 

Phryne gently rubbed her hands up and down his shoulder blades. “Stay with me tonight, please.” 

“I can’t, Miss. I... I don’t want Dottie walkin’ in on us.”

“That’s simple enough to prevent: I’ll lock the door. She’ll understand. It won’t be the first time she’s had to leave the morning tray out in the hall.” Phryne waited, and then added, “Please. I can’t ask this of everyone, you know, and it feels so much more complete when my lover spends the night.”

‘My lover.’ The words rippled over Bert’s skin like a warm bath. “That what I am, then? Least while I’m in ‘ere?”

“As far as I’m concerned. You’re not required to be here, Bert,” she continued. “Sleeping with me isn’t a condition of your job or of my friendship.”

He smiled sadly. “For how long?”

“As long as you’re willing.”

“Until the next bloke comes along, more like.”

Phryne’s eyes flashed. “Or until you find a proper girlfriend, who will want you all for herself.”

“Heh... well, it ain’t happened yet, Miss. Can’t see it happenin’ at all, at this point.” Bert scrubbed a hand through his hair and then yawned. “Hell, mebbe you did wear me out more’n I thought...”

“Well, in that case, _clearly_ you can’t leave while you’re so tired...” Phryne kissed his cheek gently and tugged him back down to the pillows. She pressed her body snugly to his side. “However, in fairness, I should warn you that I’m a terrible blanket hog, and if I hear you snoring, I may kick you.”

“That so? Maybe I really _should_ go,” Bert cheeked. 

“I promise to restrain my unconscious impulses,” Phryne teased back. “Well. Most of them.” She reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, and then sighed and rested her head on Bert’s chest. 

He was so comfortable, so sated in body and relieved in mind, he was starting to doubt his sanity. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her forehead softly. “This is nice, Miss. I, uh... this... this is nice. And... well, thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Phryne curled closer against him. “Thank _you_. This was exactly what I needed tonight, Bert. You’re a treasure.”

_You’re worth a million an’ some yerself, Miss,_ Bert said to himself, in the seconds before he fell asleep.


End file.
